strong hand, and forced
Protestant convictions upon its people by the same vigorous methods. The
castle was far older than their occupation, but it is chiefly memorable
as the residence of their bailiffs before the independence of the Vaud
was established after the French Revolution. They were hard masters, but
they left political and religious freedom behind them, where perhaps
neither would have existed without them. The castle, though eminently
picturesque and delightfully Gothic, is very rudely finished and
decorated, and could never have been a luxurious seat for the bailiffs.
It is now used by the local courts of law; a solitary, pale, unshaven
old prisoner, who seemed very glad of our tribute-money, inhabited its
tower, and there was an old woman carding wool in the baronial kitchen.
Her little grandson lighted a candle and showed us the _oubliettes_,
which are subterranean dungeons, one above the other, and barred by
mighty doors of wood and iron. The outer one bore an inscription, which
I copied:

"Doubles grilles a gros cloux,
Triples portes, fortes Verroux,
Aux ames vraiment mechantes
Vous representez l'Enfer;
Mais aux ames innocentes
Vous n'etes que du bois, de la pierre, & du fer!"

[Illustration: _Germans at Montreux_]

But these doors, thus branded as representing the gates of hell to
guilty souls, and to the innocent being merely wood, stone, and iron,
sufficed equally to shut the blameless in, and I doubt if the reflection
suggested was ever of any real comfort to them. For one thing, the
captives could not read the inscription; it seems to have been intended
rather for the edification of the public.

We visited the castle a second time, to let the children sketch it; and
even I, who could not draw a line, became with them the centre of
popular interest. Half a dozen little people who had been playing
"snap-the-whip" left off and crowded round, and one of the boys profited
by the occasion to lock into the barn, near which we sat, a peasant who
had gone in to fodder his cattle. When he got out he criticised the
pictures, and insisted that one of the artists should put in a certain
window which he had left out of the tower. Upon the whole, we liked him
better as a prisoner.

"What would you do," I asked the children, "if I gave you a piece of
twenty-five centimes?"

They reflected, and then evidently determined to pose as good children.
"We would give it to our